16. All The Regrets （Ethan） #2
“Time?” She stares at me, her lips trembling so brokenly again. “Jesus, I knew this was stupid. Goodbye!” she rushes out, her face breaking into hot, messy tears again.
Then she’s gone.
And I’m alone on this dock in the creeping darkness with the damning knowledge I’m going to be a father.
It takes me hours to move, like I’ve been made one with the wooden boards under my feet.
When I finally do, I skip dinner, go straight to bed, and stare at the ceiling until morning, trying to wrap my head around the end of my world as I know it.
Way to go, shitbrains.
You’re going to be a daddy and you’re not even man enough to work for Gramps.
I twist up and punch the pillow, wishing I could drive my fists into my own face without leaving a mark.
It’s a tantrum.
The most pathetic damn thing in the world after getting a hookup pregnant, but I think about everything I dreamed, all the things I hoped to escape, and the bitter, bitter fact that it’s gone forever now.
If she was going to get rid of it, she would’ve done it after I blew her off half the summer.
I don’t have the heart to ask her. Or the head to make a decision that big.
Ultimately, it’s her choice, and it sounds like she decided.
I’m going to be a father.
A fucking dad.
Me, who limped through school and still can’t pull it together enough to figure out what he wants to do with his life except not be tied down.
Now, presto! I have another human being to ruin for eighteen years.
I’ve never been so confused.
The obvious solution—the cowardly one—is to tell her I don’t want to be part of her life. Or the baby’s.
I’m no good for her, for them, and it wouldn’t be a lie.
I’ve got no shortage of money I could throw at her. My parents only police my bank account to make sure I’m not blowing every penny they give me on bad habits, illegal shit, scams.
I don’t feel a damn thing for Taylor Rollins and I don’t think I ever will.
But the baby… that’s complicated.
My parents never acted like they wanted me.
Not really.
They always said they did. They said the right things and went through the motions. I don’t doubt they love me in their own way, the same as Margot, but I never felt like I was truly important to them.
How could I ever pass that along to my kid?
Having a child grow up thinking its father never gave two shits about it.
Hours pass as I try to sort out my existence in my head.
What I’m going to do.
What I’m going to tell her.
How I’m going to approach the new life.
By the time the sun rises, I haven’t slept, but I know what I need to do. I get dressed and head out of the house before Gramps or Margot are awake, driving over to Taylor’s place.
I’ll face the music, tell her what I should have said yesterday.
Tell her I’m stepping up. I’m going to be there for her and the baby.
We don’t need to be together for that, but we’ll figure out this co-parenting thing, and I’ll find a way to stick around.
I’ll stay in Portland long-term, and I’ll do what it takes to be the best dad humanly possible.
Hell, maybe I’ll even take that internship at Blackthorn Holdings after all.
I’ll open my mind and broaden my horizons.
Right now, it feels suffocating, giving up on other plans, but that’s whatever. I’m slowly making peace with it.
I’m ready to do what’s right.
I can get past my future mistakes, just as long as I try.
Taylor’s parents live in a small house with an overgrown front yard, weeds springing up past the fence. I’ve been here a few times.
What I’m not expecting is the police cruiser parked out front.
What now?
I frown at the cruiser as I park along the curb outside their house, keeping my distance across the street.
Not the audience I hoped for, and I wonder if it’s a good time.
I need to talk to Taylor alone, but if her parents have to be around, so be it.
My gut churns as I climb out of my car, slamming the door behind me.
The walk to the front door feels like an eternity, but eventually I’m there on their porch.
Here goes nothing.
Just before I knock, though, there’s a terrible sound.
A scream?
Definitely a sound so raw, so visceral, it slices through me. Jagged and painful, setting my hair on end.
I stop cold and listen intently, straining my ears.
“No, no, no,” someone keeps repeating.
Taylor’s mom.
Glacial worry settles inside me as I hover on the doorstep.
No. No.
Taylor’s mom keeps repeating that single killing word until it crawls inside my head.
Damn, maybe I should leave and try later.
This is clearly an awful time and I’d be pouring fuel on the fire, whatever’s burning this woman down with anguish.
Only, I’ve turned to stone and I can’t move fast enough. Not before the door swings open and Police Chief Jim Saunter steps out, staring at me like I’m Lucifer incarnate.
Yeah, we’ve had some run-ins in the past, but for once I’m not here to cause trouble.
“Chief?” I mutter.
“Ethan,” he says distantly, his voice low and grave.
My skin prickles.
Usually, the chief just glowers at me, unable to hide his suspicion and irritation.
Today, it’s different. His expression seems tinged with sympathy.
“Is this a bad time to see the Rollins?”
“Depends. You Taylor’s boyfriend?”
Fuck, there’s no good answer to that.
“We were—together,” I say carefully. “Why? What’s going on?”
He opens the door wider. “Yep, I guess you should come in.”
The sound of horrific sobbing only gets louder.
My heart drops into my ankles.
I don’t want to go in there.
I already know I won’t find anything good.
“Just tell me,” I whisper raggedly, not moving an inch. “What’s wrong, Chief? What happened?”
The old cop gives me another sympathetic look that scares me.
“It’s Taylor, I’m afraid.”
Icicles knife me in the chest.
I lick my parched lips. “What… what about her?”
Beyond Jim, I see a dim figure. Taylor’s mother, slumped on the floor in a ball.
Her hands are pressed to her white face, her shoulders shaking.
She was the one who let out that soul-ejecting scream. No question.
The one who keeps repeating “no, no, no” like an announcement for creeping insanity, even now, oblivious to our conversation outside.
The poor woman looks like a marionette with its strings cut. Broken.
Her rattling sobs never stop.
My stomach flips over.
Heaves once.
A heartsick part of me knows what happened, but I need confirmation.
I need to hear if it’s really the disaster I think.
The seconds between each heartbeat become years.
“Taylor Rollins ran her car off a cliff last night,” the chief says softly. His words go in one ear and out the other, leaking like cracked glass, my head too fucking shattered to hold anything in. “We found the wreckage this morning.”
The wreckage.
“She didn’t make it,” I say flatly.
“No,” he says bluntly. “Afraid she didn’t. I’m so sorry, kid.”
That’s the moment the lights go out.
That’s when the sun stops rising and I’m handed over to eternal night, and I know I don’t deserve the tiniest pinprick of stars.
I’m an accessory to murder, officially or not, and when the chief asks me to give a quick statement outside, I lie through my teeth.